Save the Last Dance for Me
by CyborgWithGreatHair
Summary: Ranger arrives home from an extended mission to find his Babe in another man's arms. How will he react? How will SHE react? Based on the song of the same name. One Shot. Complete.


_So this year's Choir Theatre Restaurant's theme is "Welcome to the 60s" and it has a lot of great music in it. But as I was trying to memorise words this afternoon during a break in rehearsal, this story came to me. When I got home, I was couldn't help but write it._

 **Save the Last Dance for Me**

I held my breath as I paused in the shadowed entryway to the dance hall. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight I was met with. The lighting was low, the disco ball twirling as it sent an array of reflected lights around the room, but the music wasn't the usual bass thumping, floor shaking, boom-boom rhythm I was used to finding her shaking her hips to.

No. Tonight she was swaying and stepping with some tall blond who was making lovey-dovey eyes at her. My first instinct was to march straight across the floor and reef him away from her, but then he spun her out and I stopped myself. The grin on her face made my heart melt. As much as I wanted for her to only be that happy when she was with me, I had to acknowledge that I'd been gone almost a year and I hadn't even let her know in so many words that I was leaving in the first place. I couldn't very well waltz in here now and steel her away when she was clearly enjoying herself. Not least of all because they were doing the Rumba.

So I stuck to the wall, and made my way over to the darkened corner where a light had blown and never been replaced. I pulled a chair over and settled down to watch just as the song ended and the blond lead her toward the open glass doors that lead to the small courtyard.

Naturally, I wanted to follow, to be there to save her if she needed it, but I had to give her space. So I settled for shifting my chair so I could keep an eye on her. Part of me wanted the guy to try something on her so I would have an excuse to swoop in and save her, but he never did. All he did was lead her to a bench so they could sit down.

Their conversation was friendly, like they knew each other, but not _friendly_ like they were intimate, which was a good thing, because after the death and destruction I'd been involved in the last several months I didn't really want to have to dispose of yet another body. I began to relax, lulled into a sense of security that this guy was not her boyfriend and started to notice all the little things I normally would if it was me out there sitting next to her. Like the moonlight glinting off her hair, pulled into a surprisingly sleek updo given the stubborn curl to her hair.

I hoped she'd accept me back into her life after such a long, unexplained absence, but there was no predicting her reaction. That was one of the things I loved most about her. I could play the situation over a million times in my head, covering as many different scenarios as I could before eventually stepping into her line of vision and none of them would be the way she responds in the moment. As much as I wanted to say that she had a certain predictability about her, like we all did, it would be an absolute lie. I would try my best to get her to let me take her home tonight, though.

When they finally returned to the hall, a slow three-four song had begun. I saw Steph look to him questioningly, he said something I couldn't figure out, since his face was directed away from me, and then took her into his arms. He took a moment to adjust her posture, moving her hand on his shoulder and pushing pelvis closer to his with one hand on the small of her back.

My blood pressure rose at an alarming rate and I had to grip the edge of the chair to keep myself from storming over there and reclaiming what was hopefully, rightfully mine. The guy said something else, which had her tipping her head back with laughter and me close to a heart attack. What if she'd moved on? Anything could have happened in the last eleven months. I zoomed in on her left hand where it rested against his shoulder and breathed a small sigh of relief that there was no ring on her finger.

That didn't mean she wasn't with him, though. I knew better than most the kind of commitment issues the woman harboured. It was part of the reason I'd contented myself with the lack of official relationship we'd been coasting along with before I was called out into the field. I loved her and was fairly certain she loved me, but we'd never allowed ourselves to be together. Because of my distancing lines, because of her constant fall back, Morelli. Whatever the reason, it didn't take away from the someday I always hoped we'd have.

Could I have ruined our chances with this extended mission? I wanted to pull her aside and ask if we were still possible, but at the same time the thought of killing her good mood had me glued to me chair. I'd catch her later, maybe when she was ready to leave. I'd noticed the Rangeman SUV in the parking lot and could only assume it was her current ride, so hopefully they'd come in separate cars. If not, I'd have to follow her until the opportunity arose.

Ten minutes later, I was staring intently as they took a turn around the dance floor to a spicier number when I saw Steph's expression change, her brows furrowing. The guy spun her out and dragged her back into an intimate hold, swaying back and forth with her head peaking over his should. Her gaze was locked on mine. I couldn't have look away even if I'd wanted to. She'd spotted me.

They took another turn, but there was a key difference in her dancing. It was more distracted. She was no longer focused on the steps she'd been taught. Her head kept swivelling to look at me. When they reached the edge of the dance floor closest to my corner once more and he pulled her back into that intimate sway again, I saw her mouth my name, the question clear on her face.

I gave a little half smile. "Babe," I whispered, even though I knew she'd never hear me over the band at this distance.

Her brow furrowed again and she jerked her head ever so slightly in the direction of the corridor that lead to the bathrooms. I knew that gesture. It was my gesture. I'd worked on it for years. Anyone else would have missed it. I gave a nod and made my way over to the corridor she'd indicated to wait for her to excuse herself from her dance partner.

When she arrived she simple stood there in front of me. Exactly twelve inches separated us, but it might as well have been a mile. I couldn't read her expression. I didn't know if she was pleased to see me or not. My easy to read Steph was gone. At some point in the last eleven months she'd learned to school her expression like a pro. Just like I'd predicted, her reaction was unpredictable.

"Babe," I said, for lack of anything constructive.

"Ranger," she replied, her tone guarded.

"It's been a while," I admitted, giving up my usual silent status in an attempt to ease the expression on her face.

"Eleven months," she agreed, almost tersely.

I took an ever so small step toward her, slowly releasing a breath when she didn't back away. That was good sign, right? "I'm sorry," I admitted. "I would have told you if I could have."

"Eleven months, Ranger," she repeated. "Are you trying to tell me that not once in those eleven months were you anywhere in the vicinity of a phone or computer? You couldn't sent a telegram? An email? A text? What was I supposed to think?"

"I had hoped that Tank would fill you in," I explained. "He got a monthly update on my status. Basic information from my handler, really just letting him know I was alive."

She nodded. "Yeah, he let me know you were alive," she confirmed. "It's not really the same though."

"I know. And I'm sorry," I repeated. "But Babe, you have to know that the reason I didn't try to contact you is I love you." She did a double take at that, and I couldn't blame her. I needed to explain a little. "Every call I make, or email I send is an extra, added risk that my enemies might figure out that you mean the world to me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me. I love you."

She nodded, but didn't say it back. Not that I'd expected her to. I'd never told her before. She'd never told me. In the silence that followed my admission, I took the opportunity to pull her to my chest. One arm wrapped around her back while the other came up to caress her face, drawing it closer so I could deliver her the kiss I'd been dying to all evening.

"I love you," I told her again when we parted lips. "Whenever I'm away from you, it's like a part of me is missing and it's not until I have you in my arms again that I can truly relax." Her gaze was shuttered, looking down toward my chest, but I didn't let it discourage me. "Watching you dance with that guy just now had me readying for a fight. I love you, and if you're in agreeance I'd like for us to try our hand at being us."

She was quiet for so long, not looking at me that I started to worry what was going through her head. Was she trying to find a kind way to inform me that she'd moved on? That she was with that guy? That there was no room in her life for me anymore? Finally, she raised her eyes to meet mine and I was still at a loss.

"I can't just leave Guy in the lurch," she informed me. "We've planning this night for weeks. Every time we attempted to go dancing something would come up and one or both of us would have to pull out at the last minute."

"I understand," I assured her, letting my hands slide down from her waist to rest on her hips. Honestly, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to that. _Had_ she moved on? Was she with him? But then something she'd said made its way through my jumbled brain. "His name is Guy?"

Rather than answer me, she stepped back, a slight smile on her face. "We'll talk later," she said ambiguously before turning her back and making her way back to the dance floor.

I didn't try to stop her. I had to let her have her fun. She had to carry on her night with this Guy character, because she'd obviously been looking forward to it for a while. I couldn't take that away from her. So I followed her out a few moments later and returned to my chair in the corner to watch. She did a phenomenal job at ignoring my presence while Guy spun her around the dance floor and I sent mental messages for her not to go home with him. She said we'd talk later, but later could be tomorrow, in three days' time, next month.

 _No matter,_ I told myself. It didn't matter if she went home with him. She'd gone home with Morelli more times than I could count and she always came back to me. She'd come back again, even if it took another year.

They danced until the early hours of the morning while I sat in the corner and did the most stressful thinking I'd done in years. Then they held hands as they walked out to the parking lot where they stood beside her SUV and hugged. Hugged. Not kissed. Not make out. Hugged. That eased my mind a little and as they got into their very much separate cars, I made my way across the lot to my Porsche where I'd parked it in the darkest corner, by the dumpster.

When Steph pulled out, I followed her all the way to her apartment building. She exited her car, waited while I did the same and both took the stairs to the second floor. It was a tense few moments after the door closed behind us before either of us found our voice.

"When did you get back?" she asked, kicking off her heels and padding in her stocking feet to the kitchen where she set coffee brewing and grabbed to bottles of water out of the fridge.

I glanced at my watch. "About five hours ago," I estimated, accepting the water she handed me. "I made a quick stop at the control room to find out where you were and made my way over to the dance hall."

"Why?"

"Because I missed you, and I hoped you missed me too," I informed her honestly. "I couldn't wait to see you."

She nodded, but said nothing for a long moment as she poured coffee into two mugs and set them both on the table between us. "I noticed you didn't try to cut in," she mentioned casually. Almost _too_ casually. She was laying a trap.

"You were having fun," I pointed out. "I'd been away a long time and didn't know if you would _want_ me cutting in. There was no way of knowing how you felt about me." There's still no way of know how she felt about me. When did she perfect this cool and aloof persona? I wanted to flat out ask if she was with Guy, but I didn't want to seem desperate. "Where did you learn to dance like that?" I asked instead.

"You mean, ' _Did Guy teach me to dance like that?'_ " she corrected, accurately reading my subtext. It was like everything had been flipped upside down. Wasn't I usually the one to catch the real meaning of _her_ words?

"Babe," I responded, rather than admit that she was right.

Obviously, she knew she was, because she smirked and sank into a chair at the table. "If you must know, I've been taking ballroom dance lessons," she informed me, sipping her coffee. I was impressed for all of about ten seconds. Then she spoke again. "It was Lester's idea. He took me to his cousin's wedding and I was suitably awed by the fact that every single person there was able to waltz – and I mean _really_ waltz – around the floor. Except me."

I raised a brow at her. "Lester took you to his cousin's wedding?" She nodded. I narrowed my eyes. "Which cousin?"

"Maegan," she replied coolly. "Lovely girl. Married a podiatrist named Bernie, I believe."

On the one hand, I wanted to throttle Lester for taking Steph as a plus one to a family function – because his family was my family – but on the other hand, I was glad she'd had something to occupy her mind. "I know Maegan," I nodded. "I took her to her senior prom."

"You dated her?" she asked.

I couldn't help but laugh. "She's my cousin too, Babe," I pointed out, reminding her of my familial connection to Santos.

"Right," she nodded, ducking her head to avoid my gaze. "So you can dance like that too?" she asked, gazing up at me through her lashes.

My chest tightened just like it did when I first laid eyes on her tonight and I was left to wonder, once again, if she was with Guy. Was I encroaching on another man's woman right now? Or was this position rightfully mine? I'd opened my mouth to tell her what I'd come to the dance hall to tell her so many hours earlier when she cut me off.

"Guy is just a friend," she told me, reaching her hand across the table. "I met him at dance class. We partnered a few weeks and made a real connection. I was comfortable with him but he wasn't putting any pressure on me to be more to him like other guys in the class had. We met for coffee a few times and agreed we should test out our skills at a real dance hall. So we did. Eventually."

I just nodded, letting that process. Coffee was where Steph and _I_ had started. "Does _he_ know you're just friends?" I finally asked.

Now it was her turn to raise a brow. "He's gay," she said bluntly. "So yeah, I hope so."

"I just want you to know," I started, abruptly changing the subject. "That this was my last mission. My contract is up. I've agreed to stay on their books as a consultant, but I'm not going to be disappearing to go do the government's bidding ever again."

Her eyebrows shot up to meet her hair line. "And there's absolutely not loop holes that they can stick you with later down the track?" she asked. Not exactly the response I'd been expecting, but then again, I never knew what to expect with Steph.

"My lawyers and I went over every inch of my contract with a fine tooth come and a magnifying glass for three days before I signed it," I confirmed.

A peculiar expression crossed her face as she stood and crossed to the sink to rinse her mug. "Are you suggesting that today is our someday?" she asked with her back to me. What I would have given to see the look in her eyes at that moment.

"It could be," I offered. "If you wanted it to be. But if you needed more time-."

Before I could finish, she'd turned to face me again, holding her hand out toward me. "Come here," she requested. It was the first time in eleven months that she had requested my presence. Naturally, I was helpless to disobey. I crossed the kitchen in three strides and stood inches away from her. She closed those inches and leaned up on her tip toes to whisper in my ear. "I saved the last dance for you," she informed me.

"I've always saved the last dance for you," I replied, positioning her in my arms similar to the way Guy had earlier, except I eliminated every tiny bit of space between us until our most intimate areas were pressed firmly against each other. "Guy is a pretty good dancer," I informed her, my tone soft. "But you should know that I'm better. And also, he was holding you _much_ too close for the waltz."

She smirked up at me. "You're holding me closer," she pointed out.

"Because I'm not him," I responded, then lowered my mouth to hers before she could protest anymore. While her mouth was occupied, I shifted my weight and urged her into a slow basic waltz, not letting up until we'd waltzed once around the kitchen and were starting on our second pass.

"About that someday," she started slowly when I released her lips.

"Whenever you want it, Babe."

"Now," she replied definitively. And that was the end of our waltz. A less desperate man might have covered with a complicated lift to end the dance gracefully. But I'd been so on edge all evening that I couldn't help but scoop her up and over my shoulder in one swift, slightly jerky motion and carry her to the bedroom.

"Right now," I agreed, tossing her onto the bed. "I'm never letting you go."

 _Just so you know, any random letters or characters that may be found in this story are courtesy of my cat, who only ever wants to sit on my lap when I have my laptop out. I apologise if I have missed them when proofreading._


End file.
